Asking the Big Questions through Science Fiction (Series #8)
Understanding the nature of reality and our place in the universe through film
Science fiction is a modern term with origins in antiquity. From the dawn of time, mankind has sought to understand his place in the universe. Looking to the heavens, the ancients charted the stars, grasping at a sense of the infinite from the finite confines of their earthly realm. Cultures across the globe developed their own cosmologies to help answer the fundamental questions: Who were we? Where did we come from? Is there more than what is perceivable to the senses alone? While the biblical foundations of our faith provide the ultimate answers to these deep yearnings, as finite creatures grasping at the infinite, a sense of mystery remains.
Throughout history, man has turned time and again to storytelling in an attempt to grapple with these infinite unknowns, pushing the bounds of his known material world to see what may lie beyond, while also seeking to understand his identity. For nonbelievers, the perennial questions focused on whether man could become godlike. Early examples include The Epic of Gilgamesh and One Thousand and One Nights, both involving mankind seeking to unlock the mysteries of immortality. The story of Icarus and later, John Gower’s Confessio Amantis, offer glimpses of seeking to transcend the bounds of human limitations through flight. Thomas More would later explore questions of whether man could create a perfect society through a faith-based lens in his Utopia.
With the onset of the Industrial Revolution, the rapid advancement of technology spurred the proliferation of stories imagining what mankind could do in the future, from flying across galaxies to even creating life itself. It was in this fertile period that what is today known as science fiction took shape. The nascent genre represented the intersection of science and technology with human nature, and more importantly, sought answers in new ways to the questions mankind had been asking for thousands of years. Plausible, if speculative, explanations replaced what had previously belonged to the realm of magic and mystery. Science fiction’s fresh and imaginative perspective opened new avenues for exploring the same existential questions.
Technological advances not only catalyzed storytelling, but also helped create a new medium through which these stories could be imagined. While literary in origin, science fiction soon found an ideal partner in the burgeoning art form of film. As soon as light hit the celluloid and static images became motion pictures, filmmakers began imagining the world of the possible. It is no coincidence that one of the first substantive films ever made, Georges Méliès’ 1902 A Trip to the Moon, set its focus on such subject matter, capturing humanity’s enduring fascination with exploration beyond the known world. Filmmakers soon realized the genre’s potential for exploring metaphors related to philosophical questions about the human condition. The speculative nature of the storytelling framework allowed these inquiries to be explored within a narrative context grounded in a certain level of plausibility.
Science fiction films quickly established their place as one of the staples of the silent era. A notable early example included Denmark’s A Trip to Mars (1918), which utilized the civilization on Mars as a metaphor for what the ideal human society could be. Coming after four bitter years of a world at war, it asked: is a peaceful social order even possible? To this day, it remains perhaps the most tranquil encounter with an extraterrestrial civilization ever put to screen. The Soviet Union, in turn, looked to Mars to explore its own philosophical framework, imagining a socialist utopia under the guise of a Martian city in 1924’s Aelita.
However, the undisputed crown jewel of the silent era emerged from Germany with Fritz Lang’s 1927 epic saga, Metropolis. With sprawling sets, thousands of extras, and a budget that far exceeded most films, it quickly proved what was possible within the genre and set the standard from which later films would draw direct inspiration. As with many early science fiction films, it sought to explore the question of utopia: can man build a perfectly functioning society through technological advances? In the harrowing creation of the “machine man,” Lang’s epic asked a further existential question: can mankind become godlike and create new life? With continued advances in technology, this question would continue to inspire directors as the century progressed.
With the coming of the Second World War, cinema’s attention turned toward promoting the war effort and contending with its consequences, yielding few notable entries into the science fiction canon. The early Cold War years proved to be a watershed moment for the genre. Atomic weapons brought with them the stark threat of global annihilation. Science fiction allowed directors to contend with these existential fears in a palpable yet indirect way. In Japan, 1954’s Gojira (Godzilla) saw the monster serve as the embodiment of the nation’s trauma and fear following the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. As the atomic age progressed, monsters appeared again and again in film, wreaking havoc upon civilizations and asking audiences how they would contend with an extinction-level danger. In the United States, Them! (1954) and The Fly (1958) continued to explore fears of unchecked scientific experimentation and advancement, catalyzed by that one fateful evening at Los Alamos.
While scientific and technological advancements have brought (and continue to bring) unbridled optimism about how far humanity can push the envelope and transcend the limitations of reality, science fiction films articulated the fundamental misgivings many held in the face of such reckless attempts. Can man really alter and overcome his nature? A Christian metaphysics provides a framework for understanding these questions, yet for humanity at large, the fears these films articulated pointed to something deeper: something evident to those with eyes of faith, yet something humanity was forced to confront anew in the scientific age.
In this atomic age, as the paranoia of the Cold War set in, films once again turned heavenward, grappling with the age-old question of whether life existed beyond the bounds of our planet. Alien invasion quickly became a well-trodden topic in the 1950s and 1960s, with early examples, 1951’s The Day the Earth Stood Still and 1956’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers, serving as thinly veiled allegories for Cold War tensions and the threat of nuclear annihilation, exploring the effects of this fear on human nature.
However, it was not all doom and gloom. With the dawn of space exploration, the awe and mystery of the universe beckoned filmmakers to consider the vastness and beauty of the cosmos with a renewed sense of wonder, awe, and curiosity. 1956’s Technicolor marvel, Forbidden Planet, became the first film to depict the exploration of another planet, showcasing one of the most beautiful palettes of its era, including stunning matte-painted backdrops that imagined a vivid, kaleidoscopic landscape on the distant planet Altair IV. As mankind probed farther into the depths of space and learned more about the nature of the universe, the age-old questions of whether there was a larger transcendent purpose or guiding force came to the fore. This notion found its culmination in perhaps the greatest science fiction film ever put to celluloid, Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey. A sprawling epic that begins at the dawn of humanity, it concludes with more questions than answers, seeking to understand man’s ultimate destiny. Does technology extend our humanity or ultimately replace it? What does it mean to be human? And most fundamentally, is human consciousness accidental, or is it guided by something transcendent? 2001: A Space Odyssey’s release was a seminal moment for the genre, with nearly every subsequent film drawing some measure of inspiration from it.
As Kubrick looked to technology and the vast emptiness of the cosmos for answers, the Soviet Union’s Andrei Tarkovsky looked inward with 1972’s Solaris, a film many have read as a response to Kubrick’s. Through the framework of his Orthodox faith, Tarkovsky presented a different approach, beckoning viewers to probe the depths of their own consciousness and ultimately recognize their inherent dignity. Despite its outer space setting, Solaris was less interested in technology and progress, focusing instead on the flame of man’s intellect and, ultimately, his heart.
While exploring fundamental questions often invites a meditative approach, the genre in the 1970s and 1980s began to embrace a larger, more bombastic, and ultimately more populist sensibility. The release of 1977’s Star Wars sought to incorporate the archetypal hero’s journey into the science fiction framework, exploring notions of morality, destiny, and the human heart against a futuristic galactic backdrop. The Back to the Future trilogy continued in Star Wars’ footsteps, offering an entertaining look at another reality bending concept: time travel, through relatable characters, a rousing score, and an abiding sense of wonder.
With advances in visual effects, worlds that were once confined to the realm of imagination became cinematic reality. Directors found themselves with a larger canvas upon which to bring their ideas to wider audiences. Such developments allowed Ridley Scott to create an immersive dystopian mega-city in 1982’s Blade Runner, in which he wrestled with notions of being, created or artificial, and what constitutes the dignity of the human person. It marked a pivotal moment in the development of the genre and, at the dawn of the computer age, ushered in a renewed focus on consciousness, the creation of artificial life, and humanity’s pursuit of transcendence through technology. Yet, as with Blade Runner, films often remained haunted by a nagging sense that there is something inherently dignified in man’s nature, and that nothing warped through technology can ultimately erase it.
Creating life through computer technology remained at the forefront of the imagination as the world hurtled toward the new millennium. James Cameron’s Terminator films explored the implications of unleashing warlike artificial life upon humanity and its devastating consequences. Yet it was through these machines that Cameron probed the nature of humanity itself, asking whether we are inherently good. Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park examined the creation of life through genetic manipulation, challenging audiences to consider what happens when mankind attempts to play God.
As computers became more sophisticated, the fundamental nature of reality itself came into question. Was it possible to create a simulation indiscernible from the real world? The Wachowskis’ landmark 1999 entry, The Matrix, brought this consideration to the forefront, forcing a confrontation with the possibility that everything we know might be artificial. Without a firm metaphysical grounding, the more technology progressed, the more reality itself seemed to unravel.
With the growing adoption of artificial intelligence, these questions reach their culmination in the modern age. The notion of creating artificial life is an age-old quandary, yet it has never felt more attainable. The new millennium has seen a proliferation of films wrestling with its very real implications, from Her (2013)’s more optimistic exploration of AI’s intersection with human relationships to Ex Machina (2014)’s searing indictment. As humanity continues to grapple with these paradigm-shifting developments, it will continue to turn to storytelling through the age’s most powerful medium. Film has a unique ability to bring these questions to the forefront in a way that is universally articulated.
And while technology continues to advance at a dizzying pace, often with alarming implications, the Christian worldview offers a sure foundation. Mankind continues to gaze with wonder at the cosmos and seek to understand his place within it. As Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar and James Gray’s Ad Astra probe the depths of space, they ultimately conclude that the most powerful driving force is self-sacrificial love. Technology may change, but the reality of what makes us human will not. As Christians, we know our universe is governed by a loving Creator, and our purpose is ultimately found in Him. Science fiction provides an avenue to wrestle with and explore these questions in a fresh light, even as we remain grounded in belief. It is a genre well worth exploring, and it is our hope that this series will provide an introduction to some of the greatest films, examined through the lens of our faith.
Wonderful analysis and synthesis. This is film school stuff right here
Great article! Might I also suggest some significant movies I think have a significant place here, like The Andromeda Strain, Planet of the Apes, and Contact.